


Fate Is A Funny Thing

by JanayeSnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Eloping, F/M, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon and Daenerys grow up together, King Rhaegar, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Ned Stark Lives, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaegar Lives, Secret Relationship, What-If
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-04-08 02:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14095209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanayeSnow/pseuds/JanayeSnow
Summary: What is fate? Is those things that no matter what you or others do happen one way or another? If so what things are? What would've happen if Rhaegar had won at Trident? What would be of the migthy House Targaryen. What would've change? What would've happen anyway? Come find out what could have been.





	1. What Causes Change?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys, this is my first fanfic so please be nice to me. :)  
> English isn't my mother tongue so again please be nice to me.  
> Also I looking for beta so if any of you wants to voluntire or recommend me someone please contact me at custosluna@gmail dot com  
> Even more I'm also looking for a video maker for youtube video so if you guys can reccomend me some proggarm I can download and that is safe please tell me.
> 
> All chapters won't be this long but this one is like a prologue so it's bigger
> 
> So no more annoyance from the author and I hope you guys like it.

A gleam of soft light of the afternoon went through a window of the King's Chambers stroking the dark indigo eyes of the middle-aged man. His silver blonde hair fell over his forehead as he put his hand in front of his eyes dropping between his long and elegant fingers the feather that he was holding now for hours. Those hands were made to play the harp and later were taught to use a sword but were certainly not made for writing his name on a one million "important" documents. King Rhaegar of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. His reign has lasted for twenty and two years now and during this time it seemed that peace finally blossoms in Westeros. Still, there wasn't a night that passes which the king could sleep at ease.

The once known as the Dragon Prince sighted as he falls back into his chair. For a moment he closes his eyes and lets all back in again. The sound of metal striking. A blear of lions, wolves, dragons, and stags passing through his eyes as if they were ghost already. The last sounds of parting men so loud that the dead surely knew they were receiving a new guest anytime soon. The feel of iced water running down his spine passing through his black and red armor. The sight of a mighty hammer slowly sinking down about to crash his skull. Another sigh escaped from his lips but this time it strangle with the hope that this was not is final breath.

The Battle of the Trident was now a tale constantly told. Perhaps it is the fate of all mighty battles, don't you think? The Long Night. Aegon's Conquest. So much pain. So much sorrow. All for a goal that both sides couldn't agree upon or because of one's desire for the power of another that wants the power of yet another and the cycle goes. It all lives on in songs recited by drunk singers to vain nobles bragging about the acts of men that shared nothing with them except, maybe, one or two drops of blood or to the youth and the smallfolk to remember its fallen warriors as symbols of bravery and strength. Nothing told is the truth though. Great warriors, good men, had fallen in those battles, including at the Trident. That's truth, but the songs only tell the good side of the war, even if many believe there's none.

The victorious side immortalized in glory. When your name stands side by side to the ones of those that in your childhood you idolized and dreamed could have met and, if you're cursed enough, you could outlive that glorious battle of yours, and welcome all that respect, admiration and love the people will give you. Nevertheless, don't fall for all those pretty smiles and proud palms on your back for when your back is turned the same new knights who in front of everyone kiss your ass ask themselves what the fuck are you still doing here when age finally took his toll on you. In truth, that's what Ser Barristan Selmy says. Maybe it's better to die in battle then outlive your own glory. Still, not even that's secure. Only the gods know what would have happened if he had perished to Robert Baratheon's war hammer over twenty years ago. His name, his family name, vilified for all times because of his decisions and his father horrendous acts. That's what happens if you lose the war. Even if your intentions were the best. If you didn't agree with the ideas that you're fighting for. Even if in reality you were the one that was right. It doesn't matter because history only remembers, only rises, the winners.

Rhaegar opened his eyes. Honestly, his survival was truly a wish of the gods. When the young prince believed to see his life ending right then and there, a dornish archer, a boy truly, stroked two arrows on the wanna-be-usurper. One on his shoulder and the other on his arm, both on his right side. That boy saved his life, only to be struck down by a Northerner's horse the next instant. That was an image that still haunted his nightmares to this day. The stag's cress of pain. His wounded limb made him dropping his hammer quicker on his head. But it did not. Next thing he knew all was black and cold. As simple as that. Black and cold.

"Is this it? Is this death?" He wondered then, but it wasn't.

After ages, or so felt like, Rhaegar woke in a tent. Death had not come for him. At less, not that day. His view was foggy. He still could notice two figures talking to each other. A strangled sight escaped from his lips and the figures turned to him. One came close to him. It was Ser Barristan. He tried to speak to him but the prince couldn't hear anything except for a high pitch buzz that seemed to be stuck inside his head while a sharped pain from the right side of his head almost brought him back to unconsciousness. Yet when his friend's face became clearer his voice was nothing more than a whisper.

He had lost much in and out the battlefield. At the Trident he lost friends, brothers in arms and his right ear smashed by the stag's hammer but while he was recovering in that tent accompanied only by Ser Barristan and a maester for 15 days in King's Landing his two small children and his former sweet wife Elia were been massacred by a monster of the size of a mountain.

His relationship with Elia had always been... complex. He always respected Elia, no matter what others say. He respected her, he admired her, he grown to care for her, but he never loved her. He tried to early in their marriage. She was everything a good wife and queen should be. Kind, clever, with a gentle heart full of concern for the other with none to herself. She wasn't like any other dornish woman. Her flower had come with no thorn (italic). That was how her brother Oberyn describes her and in truth, there was no better way to do it. Rhaenys and little Aegon were truly lucky to have her as a mother. The truth was that he didn't deserve her. Elia didn't deserve what he did to her and their children and certainly, they didn't deserve what happened to them because of him. Only the gods know how the guilt and the torment of what happened in the Red Keep that day haunt him every day and will continue to away beyond this life.

But most of all he didn't deserve _her_. _Lyanna_. His beautiful and wilful Lyanna. Still today the mere memory of her sweet grey eyes or the image of a single winter rose like the ones he gave her that day in Harrenhal were fill of the most bittersweet scent. A lonely tear falls from his chin into the wooden desk. What if he had never entered her life? Would she still be alive? Probably. Possibly she would be the Lady of the Stormlands, with that drunk stag as a husband with perhaps a billion bastards walking around but Lyanna would have her litter of wolves, some with stag's skin but still, wolves. She would have taught them how to ride horses, to hunt, to fight. The girls as well of course. That could have been her life. Not could. Have. Just have. She would still be here. Breathing. Living. Instead, she chose him. She chose love over duty. They both did.

At the time Rhaegar thought he could have made it worked. How young, naive, stupid and in love he was. He knew that Elia believed, like many others, that the lust for power the Iron Throne creates in a person plus the "pure" Targaryen's bloodline was the cause of his father's madness. She didn't want that to be the faith of her children. Maybe that was why Elia agreed to give him the annulment. Or perhaps she just stopped hoping that he would love her as must she loved him. Of course, Rhaenys and little Aegon would still be his children has much any child he would have with Lyanna, and he would have loved them all the same, he does, but he could not compare what he felt for their mother with what he feels for Lyanna. She would have been a fearless queen and a wonderful mother.

Three anxious knocks brought Rhaegar back to the present. He quickly cleaned the silent river of tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. A king must never show weakness. Not even to himself. Rhaegar took two deep breaths while he stood up and walked to the door of his chambers trying to regain his composure. When he opened the door, a servant boy bowed to him. The boy shouldn't be older than ten and five years.

"I... I... I apologize for disturbing you, Your Grace" he said nervously while trying to catching his breath.

"There is nothing to apologize for, young man. Take a moment and breath before you faint." replied the king with a caring but still melancholic tone.

If anyone, including either The Mother or The Father, told the boy that at that moment just seconds ago the king was crying his past demons out he wouldn't believe it. The king looked like he always seemed. Clean, handsome and well preserved for a forty-five-year-old man but certainly one thing remained. The people said the king had always been a melancholic person for he was "born of grief" but since he was crowned there was a constant sadness in his eyes. The cause of such sorrow? The people didn't know. Or better, chose not to know.

If any good happen during the Sack of King's Landing was when Ser Jaime Lannister jabbed his sword through the Mad King's back, even if no one would say that to the Kingslayer or the new King, or no one else for that matter. Nobody truly mourned the fallen King, not even his son who couldn't even cry the family he truly loved. After all the horror caused by the Mad King's reign and the Stag's Rebellion, the country needed a strong ruler to watch over its people, not a griefer widow mourning the loss of his family.

"I...I bring you a message from... from your son... the Prince." said the boy still breathing heavily. "He should arrive in a few hours."

A shadow of a smile crossed Rhaegar's lips. His boy was coming home. He thanked the servant that than bowed to his king again and left. Rhaegar closed the door and walked to the window a little more peaceful than before. Truth, his life seemed always to be tagged to tragedy. His birth. His "greatest glory in battle." His love. Still, one good thing came out of such disasters in the middle of so many disgraces. That was truly his greatest glory.

"She was a mother." whispered a voice inside his head as the king watched over the horizon.

\-------------

The summer sun was shining all over King's Landing accompanied by a soft fresh breeze. Not a single cloud decided to appear and ruin the perfectly blue sky. It was liked the gods had prepared this day for the return of the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms to the capital. As soon as the servant left the king's chambers, the news started to spread faster than wildfire. Quickly the smallfolk gather at the entrance of the Red Keep and shortly after the lords of King's Landing joined them to welcome back the prince. The little love both classes had for his grandfather was forgotten when came to Prince Aegon. The smallfolk hoped that the young prince would follow his father footsteps and became a wise and just ruler. Needless to say, the nobles hoped that he would become a different kind of ruler, one easier to manipulate than the present king that would let his counsel rule instead of himself, to have the real power and him a poppet.

It was for this and many other reasons that when Ned Stark offer to foster his nephew in Winterfell so he could truly learn about his northerner lineage and know his mother's family, Rhaegar didn't hesitate in accepting. He wanted his son, _Lyanna's_  son, to grow up to be more than a good ruler or a good leader. He wanted him to be an honest man, a good man, an honorable man. Rhaegar knew if Aegon spent most of his life in King's Landing that would never happen and despite all the misunderstandings between them, Rhaegar would admit to anyone that Ned Stark was all of those things. So when Aegon was seven, he was sent to the North. It was hard for Rhaegar, but he knew it was the best thing to do for his boy. Still, the most heartbreaking goodbye wasn't between father and son but between the Prince and the Princess Daenerys.

The king's younger brother and the princess' older brother, Prince Viserys, soon in his youth showed signs of having inherited the fearsome Targaryen madness. So, for the good of his brother and the kingdom, the king decided to send him away to Essos with Ser Willem Darry and some servants and guards to make sure he was well taken care of and wouldn't start a rebellion on his own. And it seemed Rhaegar made the right decision. According to Ser Willem's regular reports, Viserys grow up to be a violent, arrogant, immoral and extremely cruel "lizard-boy" (as the servants call him behind his back) that believes that all people from anywhere should obey him simply because his name is Targaryen. Rhaegar knew he could never control his brother. So everytime Viserys would beg him to allow him to return to Westeros Rhaegar would deny it and ask Varys, his Master of Whisperers, to use his "little birds" and resources to make sure Viserys didn't do something stupid, like buying an army or something.

And so only they remained. Aegon and Daenerys. Two motherless children surrounded by nurses, septas and a bunch of men talking nothing else than politics. It wasn't surprising that the Prince and the Princess grow up very attached to each other. When Aegon left to Winterfell with his uncle, the young prince kept a strong face when he said goodbye to his father but when hugged his childhood friend for the last time in a long time a tear fell out of his eye. The princess, on the other hand, didn't try to hide her tears and when the time came to let go she refused to. Not that Aegon tried to get out of her embrace anyway. He wasn't as happy to leave for the North as much believed.

While he was away, the two exchanged letters whenever it was possible. Something Aegon's older cousin Robb loved to tease him about since he would stop whatever he was doing when he heard that a raven from King's Lading had a arrive for him. It didn't matter if it was trying sword fighting in the courtyard or having a lesson with Maester Luwin. Even if it meant to face an annoyed Aunt Cait and a long lecture about how it was so improper of a prince, even more of a future king, to leave the hall at the middle of supper either being with family or, worse, with guests. But honestly, he didn't care. By the next morn, his response was already underway.

When he would visit his family in the capital, Aegon would spend the most of his time with Daenerys. Well, the most as possible. After all, he was the future king of the Seven Kingdoms and Rhaegar wanted to be the surest possible that his son knew what that meant. Still, they were only children which meant: Sneaking away from the guards and go riding in the Kingswood being day or night. Walking around the gardens laughing about how immature Robb and Theon were or how Arya loved to mess with Sansa in any way she could. Those were only some of the way the two royal children spent their time together. Aegon even taught Daenerys how to use a bow and arrow and later a sword.

"The fact that I'm a princess should be a reason why I should know how to protect myself. I'm not one of those girls who just sit still whimpering themselves out waiting for some knight to come and save them and I refuse to become one." said Daenerys to her brother when her wet nurse told the king how it was not proper for a lady, let alone a princess, to run around playing with weapons all sweaty and full of dirt for only the gods know how much long. Rhaegar just gave his younger sister a barely visible smile and sent her on her way socking the wet nurse. If anyone thought that a lecture would stop that girl from doing anything she was determined to do, then they didn't know her at all. She was indeed of the blood of the dragon.

Although he did miss his best friend, Aegon's life in the North was no torture. Quite the opposite, he loved Winterfell. He loved its people, the cold, the snow. Uncle Ned says many times that he is very much like his mother, even beyond his wild raven curls and his typical Stark grey eyes that he inherited from her. He looked so much like a Stark that the smallfolk and many guests of the Stark family were always mistaken the young prince for Lord Stark's son instead of his nephew what most of the times ended in a good uncomfortable laugh.

"The boy is more wolf than a dragon, thank you old gods." someone would always end up saying either between drinks or in complete seriousness.

That always left Aegon with mix feelings. He knew his father loved him no matter if looked more Stark than Targaryen or the other way around. Still, he could help but feel that he didn't belong either in the North or the South. In King's Landing, he was treated like any other prince would be and everybody could see the love that father and son shared with one other, but that didn't stop rumors from spreading. Some say that Lyanna found her way into Robert Baratheon's bed early on in their betrothal (what wouldn't be difficult) and when she saw she had caught the crown prince's eye she merely started spreading her legs in a more luxurious bed. Of course by that time she was already carrying the stag's bastard. Others say the prince's father is not the king or the wanna-be-usurper but Rhaegar's closest friend, the Sword of the Morning himself, Ser Arthur Dayne. Needless to say that when this rumors arrived at their ears, Rhaegar and Ned just didn't cut off some tongues because it would be of no use. The rumors would continue anyway and perhaps even stronger with some validation from their actions. All they could do was endure and make sure Aegon knew that not all the people say is the truth.

In Winterfell, he felt more at home than he ever felt in King's Landing but never entirely at home. He loved his northern family very much, especially Uncle Ned, Arya, and Robb, but Daenerys... With her was different. _She_  was different. Both he and Daenerys begged his father many times to allow her to go with him to Winterfell but he always refused to. Aegon convinced himself that perhaps it was for the best. He wasn't blind to how the people looked at him. He could see the fear, the distrust, the anger, in the peoples' eyes. It's unbelievable how much people assume they know about you only because of your family name.

This is one of the smallest reasons why Aegon is not anxious in one day becoming king. Oh, how dreaded that day. He would have been very much happier as a master-at-arms in Winterfell or a commander of an army or even as a ranger of the Night's Watch than he could ever be has a king. His name was a constant reminder of his fate. Aegon, a name worth of king, the name of a conqueror. A reminder to those who dare even think to go against House Targaryen, isn't it?

Everyone in the Westeros knows the story of Aegon, the Conqueror. Of how he along with his sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya, and their dragons conquered six of the seven kingdoms with fire and blood. But and those who followed him? There wasn't another king named Aegon for over a century and when there was what was Aegon II's greatest act? He fed his own sister to his dragon right in front of her son, after a three years civil war that almost doomed their family and the kingdom. It's ironic that his nephew, the same boy who watched his mother devoured, ended up succeeded him. Who was another Aegon, Aegon III. He was also known as Aegon, the Dragonbane, because despite the fact that he strove to give the realm peace and plenty after the Dance of Dragons, he is better known as the one who brought the death of the last dragons, even though he had no fault to it. Another Aegon not much loved either.

There were three more Aegons after him. Aegon, the Unworthy. He lets the name speak for himself. His decision of legitimizing all of his bastards on his deathbed led to five generations of pain, grief and sorrow, the Blackfyre Rebellions. Aegon, the Unlikely, who made enemies from some of the most powerful families in the realm when he intended to create alliances. And then there was... little Aegon. He was a few moons old when his skull was dashed against the wall of his nursery while his mother watched helplessly screaming. These not to mention all the stillborn babes named after the first Targaryen king. How nobody ever said the name may be cursed was a surprise to the young prince.

He never saw himself as an Aegon, neither did Daenerys or Uncle Ned. So much that early on in his new life in the North, Aegon also gained a new name, Jon. It was Ned's idea. He hated the way his people, nobles or smallfolk, looked at his nephew after they found out he wasn't only a Stark but a Targaryen too. One day an eight-years-old Aegon went with Lord Stark and Robb to the market in Winter Town to "learn more the daily life of our people" as his uncle put it. At the market, a pair of ornate wooden swords called Robb's attention.

"I craved it myself, my lord. The finest wood in all the Seven Kingdoms. A proper training sword for a future lord" said the traveling seller with fawning voice and a cranky smile. His accent seemed foreign though.

"Please. Please, Father, can I have one? It can be an early name day present." begged Robb while making his best-wounded cub eyes trying to force a little tear to come out. Aegon bit the inside of his lip so he wouldn't laugh at his cousin. Lucky he was highborn because as a mummer he would survive.

Ned sighed and asked the seller how much the sword was. The price was what Lord Stark said was "an absurd among of gold" but in the end, he and seller reached an understanding. The seller would be paid the price he wanted if he sold them both swords and craved a direwolf and each boys' name in each sword. Aegon said that he didn't need a new training sword even though his uncle knew that his training sword was pretty much falling into bites after so much use so Ned insisted. His nephew deserved as much a new sword as his son. When the seller asked what the boys' name were Ned didn't give them a chance to speak.

"Robb and Jon." he said with a confident tone looking to the seller and then when he turned to start carving the names into the swords Ned looked down to his confused nephew with a smile.

So it has been since. The young prince quickly got used to his new name. A name he felt was more is own than his real. Also, who says that Jon isn't his real name? Most of his happiest memories and unhappy ones were with him using that name. It is Uncle Ned calls him. It is what his cousins call him. It is what Dany calls him. Not even when they are mad at him they called him Ageon. To them, it was always Jon. Only his father keeps calling Aegon to the prince great displeasure.

The sound of steps coming down the stairs called the king's attention making him turn around to look inside the Red Keep. His sister Daenerys was running down the stairs holding the front of her skirt with both hands so she wouldn't step on it and fell down. She was wearing a grey dress with red details on the end of her long skirt, on the end of her sleeves that go all the way to her wrists but open in the middle of her arms and also all around the neckline. The simplicity of her dress only made her natural beauty glow even more if it was possible. Instead of her normally complex braids she had her hair loose today with the exception of two braids that meet in the middle behind her head. Indeed she was a sight to be seen.

"Is he here? I'm late?" she asked nervously without catching her breath while she quickly walked to her brother's side without taking her eyes from where the tour should enter.

"No, you are not, not that potentially has ever been one of your strongest qualities, dear sister." Rhaegar answered with firm common voice but also looking at the same place as Daenerys.

"Neither is humor one of yours, brother." Daenerys said in a humorous tone.

Rhaegar saw through the corner of his eye that his sister had a playful smile on her lips. He could help but smile himself. Then the trumpets started to play and both their smiles widened.


	2. The Princess Of Summerhall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for his son's return, Rhaegar reflects about his little sister, Princess Daenerys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let me just say that real life is HELL! Literally my life went to s**t in these last months. Work. Family problems. Still recovering from depression. Exams. Yap, this's my life.
> 
> The IMPORTANT THING now is that I was able to give to this beautiful people, aka you my beloved readers and fellow Jonerys shippers.
> 
> As always who subscrive and/or comments wins a special place as my "keep going" insperation.
> 
> Again I'm looking for beta who can help through this trip. Second again, I remind you that I have dyslexia so many mistakes may have escape me so if you find any please let me now.
> 
> Now enough from the writer and let's go to story. I hope you love it.

Everybody, the nobles and the smallfolk, began cheering and shouting. Their voices were so deafening that the sound of the trumpets became as soft as the morning summer breeze. Daenerys put herself in the tips of her toes in an attempt to see beyond the sea of people that deluged the streets. However, she was only able to see the banner still in the distance. A restive sigh escaped her lips, making Rhaegar laugh. For the first time since she came out of the Keep, Daenerys looked away from the streets and gave her brother a cross look.

It was always like this when his son came back from the North. To anyone who looked upon it, The Red Keep was the symbol of the glory and the power of the King, The Lord of The Seven Kingdoms, even most of the great lords from all over Westeros could only dream of its mighty blood-red walls, and yet, to the King himself, it wasn't more than an embellished prison. For all its "glory and power" were nothing more than a pinchbeck facade for the dark fate of its lord.

Nevertheless, if there was a time in which his praised dungeon was the exact place where he wanted to be, even if he had to give his soul to any of the Seven Gods to do so, was this exact moment. And he could see he wasn't the only one. The rejoicing of the citizens of King's Landing was almost as contagious as greyscale. The way the people are shouting and laughing, some even crying, all because of the return of their prince. Still, Rhaegar knew that most of the happiness before his eyes could be the illusion of a proud father whose son was coming home.

While his calm nature has always been able to mask his excitement, Daenerys' temper wasn't as easily clothe. The look she was giving him right now was the proof of it. If looks could kill and dragons exited than Rhaegar wished that Princess Rhaenyra's fate wasn't as painful as he believed it to be for he might share it. Not that Daenerys would ever hurt him. No, he trusted his sister with his life and, if it ever would come to it, with his kingdom. He had seen her grow before his eyes from a sweet, naive and shy little girl to be a strong, intelligent and confident young woman.

Rhaegar knew that most of his little sister's learning came from the time she spent in Essos. Just like him, Daenerys always felt trapped inside the Red Keep or in King's Landing for that matter. Having to endure false friends stuffing themselves with wine and food while having to watch from afar people dying from hunger and thirst whose only crime was that their crib wasn't a golden one.

Daenerys did what she could for those people. She would steal food from the royal kitchen to give to them. Visit the orphanages, many times after sneaking out of the castle during the night on her own, bringing with her provisions and toys for the children. Report any type of abuse that she had witnessed to Ser Barristan. Rhaegar saw how deep Daenerys' affection for the needy was, still, he knew he couldn't help her.

One of the shittiest things about being the king was to have to keep the nobles happy which means making sure their pockets are full. Why does he keep doing it? If there's something that all the lords from all over the Seven Kingdoms like to remain their King is that how good it was for him and his family that the Robert's Rebellion ended the way it did. Not with this exact words but a person doesn't need to be a maester to know how to read between the lines.

Then, if she couldn't help the people in Westeros, she would help those across the Narrow Sea. Or at least was what Daenerys screamed at her brother one day after he was forced to denied _**again**_ the funds she needed it for a shelter for the children and the sick of Flea Bottom. Needless to say that Rhaegar wasn't anyway happy about this idea. He desperately tried to convince her to change her mind but with no success. He went as far as to send a raven to Aegon begging to return to King's Landing and put "same sense in that valyrian steelhead" as he put it.

The only person Daenerys would listen to after she had an idea in her mind was Aegon. And she did listen to him. Just like she boarded in a ship with a course to Pentos the very next day, with some just arrived help of course. Ever since then Daenerys spent a good part of the year in Essos and went back to King's Landing when Aegon also returned from the North.

While in Essos, she did more than her brother ever expected her to. She went far beyond just feeding and dressing the trampled. She fought with the "good and wise" masters of Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen to free as many slaves as she could. Thousands of men, women, and children are now free as they should always have been thanks to his little sister's stubbornness. The people she freed started calling her _Mysha_  which means mother. And now all of Essos knows her as the Breaker of Chains for her deeds in Slaver's Bay

For her, still it wasn't enough but there is so much a person can do without an army or a couple of dragons, even if that person is a princess. But, that strength, that determination, that fire, still burns as bright as it first lighted in her sweet purple eyes.

"If the gods had wanted it, she would have made an astonishing queen." said Rhaegar many times to himself when he thought about his little sister's future.

Suddenly, Daenerys' eyes softened, but not in a good way. The spark of amusement or playfulness Rhaegar hoped would replace the annoyance in them didn't appear. Instead, concern and restless appeared in its place. Daenerys turned her glance once more to the streets in front of her. Some people stepped way so the riders could pass but they were still at some distance. Rhaegar didn't look away from his sister. She had been back in Westeros for nearly a moon now and ever since her return she had been acting strangely.

She would spend her time either taking short walks in the gardens or locked in her chambers refusing to see anyone. Not even Ser Barristan, whom she is very fond of, was able to talk to the princess when he tried to convince her to leave her quarters for a little while. Only Missandei, a slave girl Daenerys freed in Astapor that choose to become her handmaiden, was allowed to enter her mistress' chambers. Rhaegar's concern for his sister's health only grew stronger each day that passed.

One night, a couple of weeks after Daenerys' return to King's Lading, he decided to confront his sister. He understood she was scared or frightened, but she could no longer hide from the people who want to protect her. He was coming back from a late small council meeting. The guards easily let their king pass but what surprised Rhaegar was that when he arrived at Daenerys' bedchamber, the door was unlocked.

He took a deep breath trying to calm the sense of panic and fear that wanted to explode from inside him and opened the door only enough for his head to pass through. But he didn't see her. She wasn't there. Her bed had been used, yes. The sheets were scattered all over the bed and the floor alongside the pillow as if someone was fighting to get out of them. Rhaegar entered the room looking frantically for his sister. He searched under the bed, inside her wardrobe, outside in her balcony but there were no signs of her.

Rhaegar stormed out of the bedchamber, leaving behind him, in the floor of the balcony, the candle he brought to light the way, whose flame the night's wind kindly obfuscated. He was running as faster as he could, looking for the same guards that just a few minutes ago he had sent away. They need to lock all entries and exits, no one was to get in or out. They need to warn every kingsguard and woke those who weren't in their shift. Throw dog's piss on them if need be. The princess was missing!!!

As his thoughts were running wilder, something caught Rhaegar's attention making him stop right where he was. Was it a sound? Yes. Was it a moan? No. It sounded more like a strangled groan- No, a stuffy scream. That was what it was. Someone wanted to scream, most likely asking for help, but for some reason couldn't. Rhaegar noticed something from the corner of his eye. He wasn't far from Daenerys' bedchamber. Two, maybe three halls perhaps, but in none of them, there was a half-open door.

Rhaegar prepared to grab his sword as he approached the door as silently as he could. His best days as a warrior may be over, and the Battle of the Trident may have taken more from him than his right hear, but he would never lay down again while his family was in danger. He grabbed the door handle with his left hand while his right one drew his blade only an inch from its sheath as gently as he could. If the intruders were in that room, then he didn't want to call attention on himself allowing them to run away with his sister.

Rhaegar breathed in one last time and held it preparing himself for the fight ahead. But there was no one for him to fight. So he saw when he opened the door, full sword in hand, revealing another silent and peaceful bedchamber with just one single occupant who slept soundly in the bed. It was Daenerys, who was so wrapped around by the black sheets that only sight of her was her long silver-white hair that distinguished itself from the dark.

After he looked around the room, Rhaegar sighed sadly but not loud enough to wake Daenerys when he realized where they were. They were in Aegon's room. Daenerys used to do this when she was little while Aegon was away in the North. She would sneak out of her room, pass through the guards somehow unnoticed and break in Aegon's chamber sleeping the rest of the night in his bed. When her wet nurse told Rhaegar this, he understood.

At that moment? He just walked as quietly as possible to his sleeping sister while putting his sword away. Rhaegar sited kindly on the bed as close to her as he could without disturbing her sleep. Daenerys moved a little but didn't wake up. She was trying so hard not make a sound, only releasing a moan or a sight from time to time while moving her head from side to side uneasily. Her face was all covered with sweat, so much so that some hair strands were wet.

Rhaegar put a string of silver hair behind her hair and stroked her head tenderly hoping it would calm her down. He knew it was no use waking Daenerys up. She wouldn't be able to go back to sleep after without Aegon here. Ever since they were kids, Aegon was the only one able to comfort her whatever the situation was. Rhaegar knew before sending Aegon to the North that his fostering would be hard on Daenerys as well. There is a bond between them. A bond that he knows goes beyond the blood the two share. Rhaegar expected that with time and distance this connection of theirs would fade as so many do. He didn't want it to, he just supposed it. However, it never did.

Rhaegar kept petting her hair until eventually, she stopped moving so restlessly even though she was still breathing uneasily. He didn't need to follow her the following night to know it happen again, and again in the night after that, and the one after that. No matter how much she denies and tries to hide it, the truth is that his little sister has a gentle but too emotional heart.

The ease with which she loses her temper is only one of the many evidence there are of this fact. Another one was this exact moment. There she is. Standing in the middle of the stairs of the almighty Red Keep solicitously waiting for the return of her childhood friend as if instead of only being away with his family he had been sent to some battlefront from which he would most likely return as a cold rotting corpse. A melancholy sigh almost escaped from Rhaegar's lips if he hadn't tried himself to keep his mouth shut in sometimes he didn't want to.

"I can't understand why you have been acting this way lately. You two have been apart before and for far much longer than just a couple of months but you never acted so... " said Rhaegar with his usual cold tone but you could still hear the concern in his voice.

Daenerys just kept looking forward. Her face had become almost like ice. That was one of the problems with dealing with his sister. Sometimes she would just let her emotions run loss controlling whatever she did and her decisions. Other times she would close herself so much that her heart would become more impenetrable than a vault made of valyrian steel. The sigh he had been holding back come out when he looked away from Daenerys and back to the sea of people in front of them.

The way the people moved around the entourage recalled Rhaegar of the drawings Rhaenys used to do in the beach of Dragonstone. How readily the people walked out of their position to let the riders pass through them only to return to where they were just as quickly. Just like when a child's finger rented the sand only for its grains to return to their original spot. So much work, so much effort, only for things go back to how they began.

"You have never been this distant before. Ever." Rhaegar was with his king face on for the people were starting to look at him as the returned approached.

He heard Daenerys taking a deep breath through her nose as if she was taking same time inside her head, thinking about what she **could**  tell him.

"Much has changed brother." she said in a way it reminded Rhaegar of himself during the small council meetings

Before he could think about saying anything in response, the sound of trumpets stretched the air again. Had the musicians ever stop playing? Or had they finally won over the cheering mob? It didn't matter.

Daenerys came down a couple of stairs until Rhaegar grabbed her arm forcing her to stop. She didn't turn to him though. She never cared about royal protocol anyways. All she cared about right now was what was happening in front of her. The line of musicians at the end of the stairs started to step away also allowing the riders to take their places.

Calling their group an entourage was an overstatement now you were able to see them. There were four knights dressed in typical dark leather northerner armors. Two of them were holding a Targaryen banner while the other two carried a Stark one but all of them were surrounding two other men. Daenerys moved her head to the right, left, front, down, any direction that could allow her to see beyond the banners, searching for Jon.

The sight of a few raven black curls was enough to make her lips bend into a blissful smile without she even noticing. Although Rhaegar's grip reminded her of the thousands of people surrounding her observing every single movement she made. It felt like anxiety and delight ran through her veins replacing her blood as a need for survival.

All six riders stood in line front of the Red Keep. Even Rhaegar's stone rational face brighten up at the sight of his son. He looks well. Healthy and strong. Truth be told however he hasn't been gone for that long. How much time did he spend in Winterfell? A week? Not even so. It takes at least a fortnight from Winterfell to King's Landing on horseback riding. Why was he back so soon? Had something happened in Winterfell? Had one northerners lords threatened him or the Starks?

The feel of worry grew inside Rhaegar's body when the last musician crossed the stairs to take his place making possible for the king to realize who the rider beside his son was no other than Ned Stark. The presence of his brother-by-law, in King's Landing of all places, means whatever the reason for Aegon's unexpected return is, it's strong enough to make the Lord of Winterfell leave his beloved home to accompany his nephew to the Capital.

Both Ned and Aegon dismounted their horses, but not even before their feet touched the ground, a silence reign all over Aegon's High Hill. The music? Their music is the sweet melodic sound of the wind between the trees, so rare in here that to most it sounded like a message from the Mother welcoming one of her little children to his home. The cheering? Gone. Why should they be even talking? It isn't their place. The birds? There were ever birds in King's Landing? No one remembers hearing them. Not even now that everyone, low or high born, doesn't dare to breathe.

Aegon gave his reins to one of the bannerman, who was carrying a Targaryen flag, who was beside him while Ned gave his to a bannerman with the Stark sigil. Both liegemen bowed their heads in respect and observed quietly, like the others, the Warden of the North and the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdowns climb the steps that at its top the King and the Princess of Summerhall awaited them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just in case anyone has doubts:
> 
> Aegon's High Hill - According to the books is the name of hill were the Red Keep was build to replaced an earlier wooden fort called "Aegonfort", built by King Aegon I Targaryen where he first set foot on the continent and used as his base of operations in his conquest of Westeros.
> 
> The trip from King's Landing to the North and vice-versa - In 7x07, Jon says in the small council meeting that if the Dothraki ride quickly they would arrive in a forthnight so... I went that way.
> 
> The Prince or Princess of Summerhall - It's a title given to the youngest members of the House Targaryen. Even though Summerhall was burn to the ground killing a great number of Targaryens, according to an interview about AWOIAF, GRRM said the title is still valid.  
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
> So this chapter didn't go as I had originally planned. I'm sorry Seda I couldn't explore the North situation as I said both the chapter was getting too long.
> 
> As always who subscrive and/or comments wins a special place as my "keep going" insperation.
> 
> Also I'm looking for a beta and I've dyslexia so if you find any mistakes please tell me.
> 
> So I see you guys in next chapter.


	3. Who Does Ever Want To Be King?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get into Jon's mind while he and Ned are reunited with Rhaegar and Dany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. I'm a terrible person for making you guys wait for so long for a new chapter but life, health, college, work, family, all of this got in the way beside the fact I wanted to give you guys an amazing piece of writing (which I don't know if it is so I need your comments for it)
> 
> Big Thank you to CallMeDeWitt for being pretty much my guardian angel and help me out with this chapter and the problems in my life. Some of the Jon's nicknames were his idea so the good ones are his before you wonder were the heck they came from.
> 
> So I'm not going to annoy you anymore just gonna say that feedbacks are always good. Now back to the story.

The sound of their footsteps against the pale red marble stairs broke the silence as if the thinnest lear of glass was being shattered by a street arrow. Still, the people seemed to fest on it. Jon could see the crowd from the corner of his eye, staring at him and his uncle has they merely climbed some stairs.

Some of the smallfolk looked at them as if they were gods who come down from the Seven Heavens, the living representation of the life full of luxuries, pleasures, comfort, safety, and bliss, something they, the mere commoners, could only fantasize.

Little did they know that he, Aegon "Jon" Targaryen, the Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms, Heir to the Iron Throne, the White Wolf, as some called him in the North, fantasized about a life filled with _their_  luxuries. A life without politics or ruling or having to hold millions of lives in his hands and decide who lives and who dies based on nothing besides the air they breathe.

" _Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown_. Whoever said this certainly wasn't from Flea Bottom." said Lord Tyrion to Jon once when the drunk dwarf found him fencing against a dummy at Winterfell a few years ago.

Tyrion Lannister may be "The Halfman" of a disgraced house, but he is also one of Rhaegar's most trusted advisers, the Lord of Casterly Rock, and the Master of Coin. Therefore his presence at Court, or any other place for that matter, is endured by the noble. Though none of them was able to understand why or how the king could even imagine trusting in the demonic son of the man he executed for treason barely after he came to the throne, King Aerys' former Hand, Tywin Lannister.

On that day Jon learned why. Tyrion is every bit of the good man his father pretended to be. With one more trade which made him indispensable at King's Landing according to the king. Tyrion didn't care if you were a lord or a prince or the king himself. If he had something to say about you, or to you, he would say it, in one way or another, no matter what.

Such as "I'm sorry, Your Grace, but a peaceful negotiation with the Stormlands is as possible as me shitting gold. Did anyone see a nugget in my chamber pot this morning? I didn't think so." or "No, you're right. Letting a wooden doll kill you of exhaustion is a way better way to deal with your feelings than drinking ever could."

Regardless of being drunk out of his ass and barely being able to stand on his feet, Tyrion spent the rest of that evening lecturing Jon about what he called _The Slum's Knowledge_. In truth, he didn't say anything Jon didn't already know or suspect. The smallfolk saw them, the so-called noble ones, in one of two ways: either as the image of everything desirable in human imagination or as the root of all evils spread around the world.

Those were the ways they were looking at him and Uncle Ned right at this moment. Some loathing, others dreaming, ones deadly, the rest anxiously which Jon couldn't tell if it eases him or concern him. Anyway, he was used to such things.

Drinking with your friends in a tavern trying to figure out how big Lyanna Stark's tits must have been to catch the attention of two or three of the most powerful men in all of the kingdoms is considered just immoral and disrespectful fun.

When lords come to "His Grace, The King" or to "My Lord Stark" praising their _boy_ 's sword skills with statements like: "He looks just like Ser Arthur Dayne, but I suppose you already expected it, no, my Lord?" or "Truly, Your Grace, I don't remember ever seeing anyone fighting like this seen the Trident. There is truly fury(italic) in his movements. Perhaps we should be vigilantes to that, don't you agree, Your Majesty?" are taken as bitter complements and with a forced smile. Some acted as if they are warning their king of a crime he didn't know occurred behind his back.

While others just wished brothel gossips were real, or at less strong enough to plant a seed of doubt or distrust that could lead to a rebellion. Plotting or attempting to kill any member of the royal family is, without a shadow of a doubt, high treason, but, thankfully, it hasn't happened since The Baratheon's Rebellion, if you choose to believe that's so. The truth is no one has tried to take the Iron Throne by force ever since Robert Baratheon, that's a fact. But another certainty is no king is safe from ambiguous two-faces people who will do anything in their power to rise even beyond the Red Keep.

The people from the North aren't as different from the ones from King's Landing as they like to believe, either low or high born. To Jon, they all reminded him of the hundred billions of thousands of snowflakes he watched falling off the sky from within the walls of Winterfell. Each person was completely different from the other, the way they looked, the way they acted, their beliefs, their visions of the world. However, in the end, they were all made of the same water.

They were all human with their fears, their suspicions, and their doubts. To someone who is frightened, reasoning is as much part of them as a feather is a part of the human being. Their most dread nightmare could be the absurdest thing in the world, like the Dothraki crossing the Narrow Sea to invade their homes, pillage, ravage, rape, and enslave everything and everyone in their way. Those people forget that the Dothraki shit themselves with the mere thought of salt water. But it doesn't matter. Those people would still dread it.

Fear is something a maester or a soldier can find a way to control but never to eliminate. It's part of human nature. Because of it, Jon never resented anyone who had reserved one of those looks Tyrion told him about just for him. And by anyone, he meant everyone who didn't know **him**  at all. The North distrust him because he is a Targaryen and the South doesn't trust him because he is a Stark.

Some eyes appeared to say "Oh my dear seven gods, it's Prince Aegon! I can't believe it!". Others said, "Oh no, the dragon spawn! Another future madman coming to ruin our lives.". Some others said "The Prince! Hmm, Ser Runceford has a nice ring to it. Maybe I could get an audience. ". A few said "Ah, His Almaty Grace has come to visit the plebs. More like a stag-wolfy bastard with a smart whore of a mother." And so on. Of course, there were those who were far more expressive in their opinion about their future King.

Starly Prince. Bastard Dragon. Furry Dragon. The Scaled Wolf Of Winterfell. Those words were supposed to shame him, diminish him, to show him that he hasn't full everyone yet, to expose him as the farce he was and has been pushed down their throats for 22 years by the ones who want to see him in that damn iron chair. No one had the balls of calling him any of those names to his face of course. They knew better than defile him directly in his presence or of his father's or his uncle's.

Still, words fly in the wind like leaves passing through whoever's ears there're in their way, not caring if they could hurt someone. And they did hurt him. For a while, at less, when he was still a child. Back then, Jon couldn't understand why there were people who stare at him in those ways or why they called such strange names.

"Of course you're not a dragon or a wolf or a "starly". You are a boy. A short one but still a boy." said Dany to him when Jon told her about "these strange people with weird stares" he met at a banquet with his father.

They were four at the time, so the connection between a person and their house's sigil was still thin in their minds, but Dany was right. He was a boy like those other boys running in the dirt in the streets, or those who are sword-playing, or those he saw beside the odd people at the banquet. He was a boy just like all of them.

His father and Uncle Ned always tried their best to protect him from this "misshapen tales" as they call them, but, no walls, made of either stone or caring, were stronger than the wind. Especially the winter's wind with its cold blades words which almost were able to prink his spirit. Almost, but they never did.

Though there are always some old battle wounds that scratch from time to time. But when they did, he didn't let it show. When the stares fell like knives slowly piercing his naked body, or the whispers were drops of wildfire raining inside his head, Jon would lift his head, take his stare off the ground and keep going, hoping his face wouldn't betray him. He sucks at it, but he does it. This is what he is, and he isn't ashamed of it. A wolf and(black) a dragon. A Stark and a Targaryen. A warrior and a prince. With time he learned to use it proudly like a newly knight wore its armor.

Was it his choice? No, he never asked for his brother to die and making him the one to hear the crown or to be born as the son of two star-crossed lovers whose love almost destroyed the kingdoms, but no one ever asked him what he wanted. Well, _one_  person did.

Finally, his father's face emerged from the end of the stairway which Jon felt he had been climbing for a lifetime. But it was the sight of two light violet eyes that took him off his thoughts and, more visible to others, off his breath.

"Dany? What are you doing here?" thought Jon while, luckily, not missing the last step of the stairs.

He kept walking towards her without taking his eyes from hers. She was supposed to be in Pentos, not in King's Landing. Why would she come back without telling him? Had something happened? Perhaps someone con-Maybe Viserys, or one of those magisters, or even one of Varys' little birds. Her eyes remained locked on his as two small gems stocked in the dreary bed of an almost frozen river. Then he noticed the dark bags beneath them. Hasn't she been sleeping? Why?

"Oh, old gods. Please tell me she didn't-"

The shoulder brush Ned gave him was what Jon needed. Not because he was getting too close to the king before he greeted him or at less acknowledged who he was to the audience surrounding them, but because his last thought wasn't one Jon wanted to finish.

Jon and Ned stopped, standing in front of Rhaegar and Daenerys. Barely after the two men bowed, the muffled sound of incomprehensible whispers replaced the silence in between the crowd. How Jon wished they were gone, all of them. All he wanted was to take Dany to a place where they could talk, just the two of them, without being surrounded by no-one-knows-how-many nosy ears and curious eyes.

Jon also knew that such a place didn't exist in King's Landing. Saying there're spies hiding in every corner of the city was most more than an understatement. No, he has to find a way around it. Something was wrong. He could see it in Dany's eyes. That slightly dark shade of violet on them that always appeared whenever she was sad or concern.

Rhaegar walked to his son with open arms, but when he embraced him, he felt him jump a little as if he had caught him off his guard. Perhaps he wasn't expecting this sudden expression of intimacy between them, even more in front of probably all of the people in the Crownlands. Such thought turned his caring gesture toward his son into something hollow which he never intended to be.

He and Aegon never spent much time together and when they did most likely was during some dull small council's meeting or to talk about the duties and the responsibilities of a ruler. He wasn't a man of jealousy but in that Rhaegar envy Ned Stark. The way Aegon looks up to him, the way he idolizes him, was enough to make the king himself wish for something he believed could never have, the admiration of his son.

Very carefully, Jon returned his father's embrace feeling his tense body relax if only a little while he was rolling his arms around him. Due to his father being a bit taller than him, Jon lost Dany from sight for a few moments until he found her over his father's shoulder, standing there waiting for him. Only then he realized she was smiling at him which calm what was left of the turmoil within his spirit, at less for a while.

"Welcome back son." whispered his father into his ear before he slowly got out of their slightly awkward hug.

He put his hands on both Jon's shoulders, so they were both looking straight at each other.

"Why did you come back so soon?" asked Rhaegar in his usual cold, melancholic tone though Jon sensed the concern and worry in his voice.

He already expected his father to be troubled, maybe even suspicious, of his sudden return to King's Landing, but he had pushed it to the back of his mind what in return forced his head to play for him all the possible reactions his father could have to **why**  he come back.

The sound of someone's steps coming closer made Jon looking again over his father's shoulder. Her smile had faded a little, making Jon's heart ache a bit, but it was still there. It was one of those real smiles rarely used in front of anyone, not one she had forced herself to use so no one could read her mind. Her usually pale marble skin now was tampered with a lifeless tone of grey. Her eyes had gained some of their colors back, but he could still see that sore trembling shadow on them.

She stood next to Rhaegar, whose left hand let go of Jon and rested it in Dany's shoulder as a sign, Jon believed to be, of comfort. When those indigo's eyes looked back at him with love, care, and uselessness on them, Jon felt the hole in his stomach grow.

"That's my fault. I urged him to come." said Ned Stark while coming towards them speaking the first words Jon heard coming out of his mouth ever since they left Winterfell over a fortnight ago.

Ned hugged Rhaegar forcing the king to free his hands so he could return his brother-by-law's embrace.

"It's good to see you, brother." the two men parted from their cordial gesture with some soft pats on each other's backs.

Ned turned to Daenerys who bowed her head a little in respect for the man in front of her.

"Lord Stark. It's a pleasure to meet you again" she said in a warm tone as one a child would give when a loving relative came to visit.

However, her mood wasn't all warm as she intended to be. There was something rimy in her. Rhaegar saw it every time Daenerys noticed his presence and now he was seeing it again. Ned bowed and grabbed the princess' right hand bringing it to his lips. Daenerys felt a tiny upper bend of the northern lord's lips as he gave her a chaste kiss in the back of her hand. Ned looked up but didn't let go of Daenerys' hand.

"Your beauty glows all over the Seven Kingdoms, Your Grace, and more so every day." he said with a kindhearted smile staring at a now confused princess.

The confusion was short-lived, shorter perhaps than half a moment, for when Lord Stark gently released her hand and stood straight again the same amiable spark that laid in his smile was also in his eyes. But, these are not the dark grey Stark eyes she had been earning to see. Those she could feel staring at her following every slight movement of her body wondering what she was doing here. Dany knew when she left Pentos she needed to tell Jon of her return to Westeros but when they safely embarked in the _Black Betha_  and asked Ser Jorah if they should warn her family of their arrival he answered:

"It was His Grace, your brother, who ordered us to bring you back. He couldn't bear the thought of you being stook in that place any longer. He wanted to take you out of here the sooner as possible, so he paid off this ship's captain to bring us to Blackwater Bay. If he was able to smuggle onions and salted fish into Storm's End during its siege without being caught, then we shouldn't have any problems arriving there unnoticed." explained Ser Jorah with a harm tone "Besides, the captain says that when he left the Twins a few weeks ago, everybody was talking about the royal entourage from Winterfell going south in the Kingsroad. The Prince must be returning to King's Landing too but we should arrive there before His Grace does."

So she waited for him. The weight in her head wouldn't let her sleep but she waited. She hated the stares the nobles gave her while wondering why the princess suddenly stopped her "work with the needy" in the ends of the world only to walk around the castle on her own around but she waited. She couldn't bear the look Rhaegar gave her every time he looked at her but she waited. Now, he was right here with her looking more like that shy confused brooding little boy who used to run after her in the halls of the Red Keep than the loving honorable but still brooding man she last saw in the harbor of King's Landing.

"Your Grace." said Daenerys bowing, turning her long grey skirt into a maiden mist which sheeted the blood red stone floor of the fresh men-tainted grass.

The crowd no longer tried to pretend to be quiet. The princess never bowed for anyone, not even for the king. No matter the place, or the occasion, or the people around them, for him, she would only lower her head or, sometimes she would curtsy but she never bent her knees. Daenerys stayed that way for a few moments, feeling once more everyone's eyes on her wondering what she was doing and once again she didn't care. Let them look. Let them stare. Let them wonder about what they could never understand.

Jon kneeled both his knees in front of her. He held her by her arms forcing her to follow him when he stood up. Those grey eyes hooked hers once more way before they were back at their feet. She could see it now if she had doubts before. The confusion. The concern. Some hurt. It was all there, mixed with that dark shade of theirs, and seeing it, hurt her more than a thousand laces would, more so knowing she was the cause of it. But there was no anger on his eyes. Of course not, he wouldn't be Jon if there was.

He was still holding her though as if he was afraid she would fall or pass out if he let go of her. She looked even paler up-close. One of his hand slipped through her arm until the end of her self the same way it seemed as the wind slides in between the branches of a young autumn tree. From there he let two of his fingertips to remind on her skin, but their touch to others' eyes was inexistent for his fingers were merely floating over her wrist.

In the end, he held her hand and, like the man before him, brought it to his lips. Unlike his uncle's, Jon's kiss was steady and firm and yet comforting and gentle, like him. Daenerys could feel him breathing in against her skin trying to catch a glimpse of her scent as if it could assuring himself she wasn't some illusion or mirage.

The feeling of a long-fingered hand on the middle of her back replaced the one made by Jon's lips although the waves across the back of her hand still lingered. She didn't need to look to know that it was Rhaegar now standing beside her.

"We should go inside. Here isn't a good place to talk." he said before facing the millions of people in front of them.

With his free hand, he grabbed Jon's raising their harms in union forcing Jon also face the screaming crowd which means one thing: Royal Mask - On.

"My son is home!" the crowd's reaction to his father's words reminded Jon of soldiers in a trained field receiving commands from their commander. Only instead of attacking their companions in arms with some rough woods no better than sticks, the people in front of him shouted and cheered just as roughly raising their arms as if they stretched them enough they could touch him.

A few men, not many but still enough to give themselves to be noticed, crossed their arms in front of them. It was to them Jon's eyes went while parading his princely smile for the rest of the people of King's Landing.

"His safe return is the best gift the gods could have granted me. So go, my people, go back to your homes and your families. For today is a happy day." with that Rhaegar brought his and Jon's arms down, took his hand form Daenerys' back only to take one of her hand and turn in direction to the Red Keep. Ned joined them walking right behind them as the loyal soldier he was though none of them heard his steps for the sounds of mob drown any sound from there to White Harbor. And happily, it so was for none, not even himself, heard a gasp escaping the prince's lips when he noticed a silver string resting in Dany's collarbone, for it wasn't a string of hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown" - Shakespear, Henry IV, Part II - because he is one of the few people in owr reality who can right a line deserving of Tyrion Lannister's mouth
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> So here you have it. My Jonerys reunion. I hope you guys liked it and remember comments and kudos are the best thing ever, just saying.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it and remember this is my first fanfic so please be nice to me.  
> Again I looking for beta so if any of you wants to voluntire or recommend me someone please contact me at custosluna@gmail dot com  
> Even more I'm also looking for a video maker for youtube video so if you guys can reccomend me some proggarm I can download and that is safe please tell me.
> 
> I hope you guys have a nice rest of day and until next chapter.


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